As morning comes
by Sara Nublas
Summary: Sequel of "Charlie Chaplin is a good guy".  Warning for fluff and angst


**Title: **As morning comes

**Author: **Sara Nublas

**Characters: **Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan

**Summary: **Sequel of 'Charlie Chaplin is a good guy'

**Warning: **angst and fluff

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, just having fun with it!

**A/N: **thanks a lot to Nix1978 for the prompt (wine, board game, an embarrassing moment) and the beta-reading. This story partly inspired by an episode of Rookie Blue.

**_Please R&R! :)_**

* * *

><p>There is always a certain degree of awkwardness at the moment of waking up…<p>

What during the previous night seemed so right and natural, under the morning light turns into a whirl of question marks and potential embarrassing scenarios. The rational mind analyzes causes and consequences of the situation and stares with disappointment at the impulsive resolutions of the instinct.

Emily Prentiss is not a balanced woman. She's very good at feigning it though; so good that sometimes she convinces even herself. Truth is, she's a hectic pendulum; dwindling between opposites, never to settle in the middle. Either she's controlled, distanced and grounded; either she's impulsive, passionate and reckless. In the first case, she ends up regretting not saying more, not daring and pushing herself a bit further; whereas in the second case, she typically beats herself up for exposing the weak side, showing her weaknesses or crossing the boundaries.

She reluctantly opens her eyes, as the soft light filters through the curtains. The memories of the previous day's debacle with the unsub come back in fragments, and together the regret of losing it, like a rookie. If it wasn't for Morgan talking her down…

She can't help mulling over the stark contrast between the controlled, caring, always in charge profiler she's used to, and the edgy, troubled, lust-driven man who showed up at her apartment, last night.

That was…something new…

She turns her gaze and smiles lightly, finding his body next to her. With her hand resting on his chest, she can feel his regular heartbeat; his face is relaxed, free from the troubled thoughts of the past night, and his arm is wrapped around her shoulder.

It feels good. It feels more than good.

Is this something she should regret? Did her impulsive momentum rush her through another wrong choice, or is it really as good as it feels?

Definitely this is not something they can just ignore, is it?

They work together, they are good friends and they wouldn't jeopardize their careers just for one night of lust.

She observes the regular raising and falling of Derek's chest and she can't help feeling ridiculously awkward, as this turmoil of questions is uprising in her mind.

She wishes she could go back to sleep and wake up later, when he has opened his eyes and she can have some clues of how he feels about this.

The memory of his lips, his touch, possessive yet solicitous, leaves her helpless and without an answer…

"I can hear the noise of spinning gears in your brain, Agent Prentiss" a husky voice catches her by surprise. She raises her head, wide eyes, mouth opened, searching for something meaningful to say.

Derek is looking down at her, smiling amused at her goofy expression.

Then he sobers up, his stare becoming impossibly deep, his hand caressing her skin, softly and lovingly.

"We need to talk…" she anticipates him, uncertain whether it's a question, a guess or a statement.

He smiles reassuringly, no signs of regret or grudge on his face.

She doesn't understand if it's a good or a bad sign.

Finally Emily sits up, wrapping her sheets around her chest and he follows her movements.

They stare each other for a long moment, longing that bureau rules, protocols and awkward explanations faded away, leaving them two alone, with their bare desire for each other.

Derek rises her chin and is about to say something, when both their phones ring.

Work.

"Not now.." Emily sighs in frustration, while Derek ducks his head in defeat, watching at the caller ID and lightly kisses her forehead before answering "Morgan…"

**oOo**

Few hours later the team is closing the ranks around a serial rapist, who apparently stalked and killed six women and then disappeared for two years, until now.

"The unsub is a meticulous, highly controlled man, in his forties." Gideon starts delivering the profile in front of a crowd of cops and detectives.

"He's kind and shy, and doesn't leave a strong impression in people. He's quiet and keeps to himself," Hotch carries on.

"This kind of offender lives a very disciplined life, probably he received some kind of military training. He meticulously plans his aggression, he can spend weeks searching for his victim and once he selected her, he will monitor her habits in detail, until he's absolutely confident on how and when to strike" Reid explains.

"Likely he's also a collector. Meaning that once we catch him, we will also find trophies that he took from his victims," Morgan takes on the speech, "personal items, photos, underwear, hair, anything that can help him relive the fantasy".

A cop, raises his hand interrupting the profile and causing everybody to turn "Does this mean that we just have to find the suspects and search their houses for this _souvenir_?"

Prentiss nods, taking the question, "Not necessarily. These offenders are very scrupulous and protective of their trophies. It's very unlikely that you'll find them in the open. They might even be in another place, where the unsub can return in secret to contemplate his treasures."

Once the profile is delivered and the tasks are given to the various units, the team heads back to the conference room, trying to get more insight on the case and narrow down the list of suspects.

"Detective," Hotch warns the leading detective in charge, "you might want to set up a special line for incoming calls relative to this case.."

"Why?" the detective, a well built man in his fifties, asks.

"In these cases it's really common that people start seeing weirdness everywhere. Suspecting neighbors, postmen, dog walkers…" JJ explains; then seeing the discomfort appearing on the agent's face, she reassures him, "we'll help you to skim the reliable tips from what are bogus. Don't worry".

She manages to lift only half of the worry in the man, who nods and heads out of the room to organize his agents.

Working with the exhaustion of the previous case still lingering on their shoulders would be enough of a burden already; but faking a detached attitude and feigning nonchalance when a lot of questions and doubts crowd their minds adds an unnecessary stress for Derek and Emily.

The first wondering whether he coaxed her into doing something she's now regretting; the second questioning if she can possibly take a step back and rewind to the friendship stage, in the case Derek repents of the events of the night before.

The reciprocal stares they exchange and the sometime awkward tension between the two of them, don't escape the attention of their colleagues, wondering what happened to crack their usual chemistry.

"Emily…" JJ tries to approach her in the most delicate way "Are you ok?"

Emily stares at her colleague, wide eyed, "Yes… I'm just a bit tired as everyone else, I guess."

JJ looks at her, unconvinced "Alright…" she pauses a second, perfectly aware that she's hopeless against her cryptic friend, "I noticed some kind of awkwardness between you and Derek; even a few nights ago at the bar there was some tension between you two…I just wanted to know if there's something I can do to help." She smiles honestly.

Emily nods, cursing herself internally for not being able to better compartmentalize the situation, "We are fine," she lies, then she decides that the best answer she can provide right now, is the one closest to the truth, "You know Morgan; he wants to be in control of the situation and make sure that everyone's fine. And sometimes I get it as a lack of trust… once this case is closed, we'll sit in front of a beer and will talk it out" she smiles. Hoping it's going to be that easy.

JJ smiles, reassured by her friend's explanation, and changes subject, "we tracked down a man who was suspected for the murders two years ago. No conclusive evidence was found against him, but he fits the profile. Gideon and Hotch are questioning the last victim's neighbours, whereas Morgan and Reid went back to the last crime scene…"

"I can go talk to him." Emily offers, immediately redirecting her focus to the case. "I'll bring one of the detectives with me…"

"Great, I'll let Hotch know" JJ resolves, walking back to the conference room.

**oOo**

"So, if this guy was found not guilty the first time, why are we talking to him again?" the young officer asks Emily, while he pulls the car over and verifies the address of their potential suspect.

Emily raises her gaze from the file she's been reading along the way. She likes this detective; usually many cops are skeptical about the BAU and they get territorial, feeling that someone else is trying to take credits to their detriment. But this is not the case. Hank Carlyle is a young, enthusiast policeman, eager to learn and understand. He enjoys the teamwork and has been sharing information without reserve since the beginning; his only focus being catching the unsub.

"Just because the file says that no conclusive evidence was found, this doesn't automatically eliminate him from the list of suspects. Also this guy fits the profile, he's a military career and has been deployed in Afghanistan several times over the past two years, which could explain the stop in the murders."

"Fair enough…" the agent nods, "so what we do?"

"We knock his door, we question him and we monitor his verbal and non verbal reactions," she explains, while unfastening her seat belt and leaving the car.

"Non verbal?" the officer trots to her side, confused.

"Any sign of distress in his voice or in his movements. How he reacts to our questions. The phrasing he uses. And in the meanwhile, we take a peek at his house. See if there's something off," she tranquilizes him.

"Agent Prentiss" he falters, "I'm not sure if I can read all these signs…"

"That's why I came along" she smiles reassuringly, ringing the doorbell.

**oOo**

Derek checks his ringing phone with a dejected look, "Hi, JJ." He greets tiredly, "we're leaving now the house of the last victim. None of the neighbors remember anything unusual during the weeks before the murder, and everything in her apartment is in order. Whoever did this, knew the house and the victim's habits. Any luck on the anonymous tips?"

By the seer look he gets, Reid deduces that the answer is a no; "So what now?" he questions his colleague, as he hangs up on the liaison officer.

"Prentiss went to talk to a man who was suspected of the murders two years ago. He's a military and he came back from a tour in Afghanistan three months ago," Morgan answers, dodging his colleague's gaze and moving toward the SUV.

"Did she go alone?" Reid asks worried.

"No. An officer is with her." Derek cuts quickly.

"What, you don't like him?" Reid shrugs with a curious expression.

"Why?" Derek starts the engine.

"You don't seem very happy that she's with him. So either you don't trust that officer, either there's something going on between you and Emily..." there's actually no malice in Reid's words, but Derek cuts the engine and turns toward him with a frowning glare.

"Kid, we've been up for fifteen hours now, and we barely had time to sleep since we've closed our previous case. Do you really think I need some team profiling right now?"

Reid stiffens at the curt reply, "Sorry, I didn't mean to profile you… it's just that usually you and Emily are always joking and getting along, and in the last few days I've noticed some tension. That's it."

Derek regrets immediately snapping at Reid. The truth is that he is right; things between Emily and him have been definitely intense and the previous night hasn't helped to simplify the situation. All he wants to do right now is to talk to her and clarify the situation. Whatever she will decide, he'll respect it, even though he's not sure he can just erase what happened. In all honesty he doesn't want to erase it and he doesn't have any regrets about it.

He pushes away the flashback of Emily, closing the distance and sealing his lips and he starts the car, muttering an apology to Reid for his reaction.

**oOo**

Eugene Lieberman opens the door few seconds after they rang the bell.

He's a well-built, discretely good looking man, he has a kind, yet not sincere smile, and wears glasses. He surveys carefully the two agents and, when Emily indentifies herself as FBI, he steps back and lets them in.

She takes a look around and she's not surprised to find a spotless, tiny and well-organized apartment. The prevailing color is white. There are books and paintings, but not pictures. Nothing is out of place, the kitchen is perfectly clean and organized and the television is on the news channel, volume low.

"How can I help you?" he asks politely.

"We're investigating a murder that happened two nights ago," Carlyle starts, as instructed by Emily, "a woman was attacked in her house, duct-taped, raped and strangled…" as he speaks, Emily checks the surroundings and monitors Lieberman's reaction.

The man smiles lightly and nods, adjusting his glasses on his nose "…and you think I did that…" he concludes not surprised.

"You were the main suspect for the previous murders. Now you come back from Afghanistan and another woman is killed… " Carlyle suggests.

"I understand" he keeps his cool, "well, I'm not surprised by your lack of originality. And I'm sorry for this woman, but I didn't do anything" he carries on with a quiet smile.

"Where were you that night?" Prentiss jumps in. She wonders what that fake smile is hiding and she doesn't fail to notice a little spark in Eugene's expression as he redirects his attention to her.

He adjusts his glasses again and entwines his hands behind his back, "I was here with a colleague of mine. We had few beers, and she left at midnight. I can give you her name," he offers.

Soon after they leave the house, Carlyle is disappointed and Emily thoughtful; she calls JJ and asks to check Lieberman's alibi.

"That must be a tough life anyway…" Carlyle comments, on the way back to the station.

"What do you mean?" Emily asks, taken away from her thoughts. That glimpse in Lieberman's eyes still stuck in her mind.

"I mean the army. One day they deploy you. You shove all your life in a storage room and off you go.."

Emily turns to him, "what did you just say?"

"What?..." Carlyle is bewildered at her sudden interest.

"About the storage room.."

"It's where the militaries leave their things when they go away…"

Before he could finish explaining, that Emily is already speed-dialing Garcia.

"Talk to the Oracle, you humble, yet awesome mortal" the tech analyst greets her.

"Hi Garcia, I need you to find whether there is any storage room entitled to Eugene Lieberman." Emily asks without losing time.

"Nope, nada" Garcia chirps from the other side of the line, after typing some queries.

"What about the previous victims? Starts with the first…" She suggests, after giving it some thought.

"Mmmh, let me see…" Garcia searches again, "by the way, are you and my favorite profiler good?" she asks while hurrying on the keyboard.

Emily gapes for a moment; glad of not being on speaker "Is this the question of the day?" she counters, lowering her voice.

"I take it that JJ was faster than me… we're just worried about our favorite crime fighters" she smiles back, Emily's edginess not escaping her attention and causing an accomplished smile on her lips. "Bingo! You have a storage room in name of Monica Parker"

"Ok, thanks Garcia" Emily hangs up before the blonde can coax her into revealing some more details about her dodgy attitude.

**oOo**

"Okay, I'm sending there Morgan with back up" Hotch resolves sternly, joining the rest of the team in the conference room at the police station.

"What happened?" Reid asks, alert.

"Emily found out that there is a storage room in name of Monica Parker, the first victim. She suspects that is where Lieberman keeps his trophies"

" I thought we eliminated him from the suspects" Gideon comments.

"It's just a hunch. But we don't have anything better right now." Hotch explains, "Prentiss is going there while we get a search warrant; she sent Carlyle back to Lieberman's house to keep an eye on his movements"

"She did what?" Derek raises his bewildered gaze, unable to control his reaction, and receives an equally concerned nod from Hotch, "Morgan, go get some agents and reach Prentiss," the younger profiler doesn't need to be told twice and flees out of the room.

Hotch has noticed something odd going on between the two agents, but he doesn't have the time to worry about that now. Honestly he really thinks that the less he knows the better.

While on his way, Derek can't help fuming and steaming. He's speechless at Emily's reckless behaviour, and he can't understand how, after being almost killed less than two days ago, she's putting herself into a potentially dangerous situation, without the minimum care.

He automatically dials the number and takes deep breaths as the phone rings.

"Prentiss" her voice, sounds calm and detached on the other line, no distress. It reassures and infuriates him at the same time.

"Don't you dare enter that storage room without back up" he storms sternly.

"Morgan," he feels an uncertainty in her voice, and realizes this is the first time since they woke up together this morning, that they can talk without people around.

"An agent is checking Lieberman's movements, as long as he's at home, I've got lee way here" she regains her professional demeanor, which helps her to shield the turmoil of emotions now jumping at her.

"Do you realize that this is the second time in two days that you put yourself in danger?" he just can't help being furious and worried. And the more she keeps calm, the more upset he gets.

"Derek, I think we already talked about that…" her voice becomes tenser and less detached.

"No, Emily. We didn't." he cuts her short, "I showed up at your house. You told me some crap about how your putting yourself at risk is a part the job. And then we spent the night together. Next thing I know is that your playing the wonder woman again…" he just can't help being scared as hell at her total careless for her safety.

"Well, then I don't have to worry." She gets back seer, "Derek Morgan will come and save the day as usual. You will be the hero and I will be the damaged reckless agent, who never gets it right" she takes a pause, "you know what? Let's just forget about the other night and mind about doing our job."

Her words hit him like a truck.

"Emily, this is not what I meant..." he tries to explain, but she cuts him short.

"What I'm asking is just a bit of trust. I know this man is guilty and I'm not going to wait around until he kills another woman to prove it."

"Emily…" he tries again, as the communication gets more and more disturbed.

Her last words before she hangs up are just a confused buzz.

**oOo**

When the responsible of the storage office comes to face a determined and out of patience FBI agent, showing a badge and explaining that the woman renting the storage unit in interest, has actually been dead since three years, his initial reluctance fades. He's quick and compliant in breaking the lock and then leaving, not being interested in any further involvement.

When she opens the room, Emily finds a number of boxes accurately piled in perfect order. Oddly enough instead of calming her down, this obsessively tidy room makes her even more nervous.

She takes a deep breath, draws a red line between what is personal and what is case related, and hides the first under a thick, cold blanket, in order to focus only on the second.

Once she's ready and focused, she takes a step forward to have a closer look at the room; that's when a sudden noise breaks the silence and the lights go off.

She's quick in finding her flashlight; it takes few breaths to calm down her heartbeat, and to survey the isle.

All clear.

She turns finally to the boxes, and proceeds to carry on with the search.

If anything, Lieberman is an OCD freak. The boxes are piled up three by three, in rows equally distanced between each other. Each box is catalogued by an alphanumeric code, with numbers and letters increasing from the left to the right. Emily can't help an inner smile, thinking the Reid would have some fun in there.

Proceeding toward a farther corner, Emily spots a rectangular box leaning on top of a few containers. She gets closer and sighs in disappointment, realizing it's just a board game: Risk. The illustration on the lid displays multicolored armies lined up on the different countries. She shakes her head, "Guess it was your destiny, Eugene" she mutters to herself.

She puts the game back where it was and suddenly a crushing noise breaks the darkness. She falters as, looking down, she sees a deep red stain spreading around her feet…

Agent Carlyle stops a few meters away from Lieberman's house. He can see the suspect's car still parked outside of the house; to him a safe enough assumption of his presence at home.

**oOo**

Carlyle likes Agent Prentiss; the voices around FBI agents describe them as pompous, arrogant and self-centered dandies, wearing fancy clothes and not having a clue of the real job in the streets. As he thinks back to how she explained every step and how she involved him in the interrogation, making him feel useful and capable and not just a driver that came along, he realizes that either those voices are bogus, either Emily Prentiss is a hell of an agent.

He makes a mental note of thanking her for the tips before she leaves, and maybe asking her out for a drink.

The initial disappointment for this surveillance job fades, and his will to prove his value as agent takes over. He steps out of the car and with fast strides goes to check whether the suspect is really at home. Once he shows up at the door, he will just come up with a routine question, Carlyle thinks.

He has to knock four times before realizing he's been fooled, and Lieberman is long gone. He rushes for the cell phone and contacts immediately Prentiss, to no avail. Hoping it's just a problem with the reception, weak in those containers, he calls the station and finally gets to speak with Agent Hotchner.

**oOo**

Emily kneels down, evaluating how spread is the damage that the bottle of red wine caused falling and breaking on the floor. It must have been hidden somewhere behind the boxes because she doesn't remember seeing any bottle around. It's in that moment, as she's crouched down, that she sees it.

It's a plastic transparent box; inside there are several plastic envelopes, lined up and catalogued. They contain photos and what seem to be underwear and personal objects.

She moves the box in order to have better access and opens the lid. There are pictures of all the known victims and even of others she never saw before. Each envelope is marked with a name and a number corresponding to the same tag on the bags containing the victim's personal objects; underwear, hair locks, bracelets, brushes.

She finally hears a noise of hurried paces and she turns, eager to meet Derek's face. This place is creeping her out and she wants to get out of here, and to apologize and to explain why she can be so reckless at times.

Before she has the time to spell Derek's name, her cheek is smashed against the wall. She falls on all fours, numbed by the hit, searching for her gun; but her aggressor is faster and twists her arm behind her back.

"Now we're going to fix this mess" Eugene Lieberman hisses against her ear, before tying her hands to a pipe. Once she's immobilized he puts duct tape on her mouth and around her feet.

Morgan speeds up the pace as soon as he approaches the dark isle. The back up is close, he can hear the sirens, but after Hotch's phone call, he decides there's no time to waste.

He proceeds fast, but cautiously through the dark maze of corridors, until he gets in front of the storage room. It's closed, and the broken locker is on a side on the floor.

He tenses, struggling to keep his lucidity, swearing that if Lieberman has even touched her, he's going to forget about his badge for five minutes.

When Morgan lifts the roller blind with a single fast movement, he finds Lieberman with his hands clutched around Emily's neck.

A déjà-vu he really wasn't planning to relive so soon, brings him back to that dark warehouse, where he almost lost her few days before.

He doesn't think twice before grabbing the unsub and knocking him out, in order to cuff him.

In seconds he's back to Emily, removing the duct tape from her hands and her mouth.

She gives a muffled cry, gasping for air, as he keeps her hair away from her cheek and gathers himself.

All his rage, all his speeches about being part of a team and watching each other's back, all of this is washed away by the relief of finding her alive.

He wraps his arms around her, finally allowing himself to breath.

"So. Are you done playing Rambo now? Or do I have to expect other surprises" he manages, as she abandons herself completely into his hold.

"I found them, I found the proofs that nail him," she mutters, avoiding a direct reply. "Thanks for coming" she then allows the blanket to slip a bit and expose the part of her thought she willfully suppressed so far.

He breaks the contact and stares into her eyes, holding her face into his hands. He doesn't falter when the light comes back and he hears steps and voices approaching.

"I don't judge you any less than me, but I do care and worry about you, as a friend, as a partner and as …" the voices getting closer and closer, "I don't regret anything from last night. But I'm ready to take a step back if you want me to" he manages before cops, paramedics and the rest of the team get to scene.

The rest of the day passes by hectically, between reports, press releases and medical examinations. Derek and Emily don't manage to find a moment to themselves.

Even on the plane an exhausted Emily is coaxed into a chess match with Reid, while Gideon is talking to Hotch, and Morgan is glancing out of the plane, wondering how things are going to be now.

Hours later, when the city is already quiet and dark, Emily sets step into her house and feels lost staring at the again empty bed and remembering Derek's words. His reproach, his worry and his confession.

As the knock at the door interrupts her considerations, she runs for it and doesn't give him time to explain, ask or justify.

She just opens the door and kisses him. It's a needy, aware, searching kiss; her hands at the nape of his neck, her body leaning against his, as if her life depended on it. Once she breaks the contact, she walks him inside keeping her eyes on him, "I need to do all I can to stop the monsters we chase, that's why I get so reckless at times. I couldn't live with myself otherwise" she says haphazardly, without letting him speak; then she places a hand on his cheek, "but I also need you" she adds, this time softly, her voice cracked with emotion.

This time it's Derek closing the distance, with a long kiss," we still have some serious talking to do…" he whispers on her lips.

"Tomorrow" she counters; this time knowing the day after she won't falter with doubt.

"Tomorrow" he echoes while pulling her snug and kissing her.


End file.
